Joy
by thefirstservant
Summary: James Sirius Potter is a loud person. Lucy Rowina Weasley is a quiet person. And yet they both burn a light brighter than the sun's. In very different ways. Written for the Character Diversity Boot Camp Challenge. Won The Fan-Favourite August 2012 One-Shot Award.


Joy comes from the innermost places, from within oneself, from the quietest corners of one's soul.

It spreads itself far and wide, traveling across and around, until joy is felt from every part and portion of a person's being, pouring out in exclamations from one's mouth – from the quiet to the outpour.

And sometimes, joy comes from the quietest souls – the solitary, lone individuals who roam among the crowds and along the chaos.

And these people may at times be overlooked, their discreet selves hidden from the disco light and chortles, but the joy within them pours out to those in need. Any of those in need.

(Because disco dancers and loud laughers need to stop and rest awhile, too.)

James Sirius Potter is a loud person. Lucy Rowina Weasley is a quiet person.

And yet they both burn a light brighter than the sun's.

In very different ways.

…

Lucy sat on the doorstep of the kitchen's back door.

It was night. Muffled peals of laughter, soft music, and loud war cries could be heard from the living room on the other side of the house.

The Weasley family had gathered at the Burrow for one of their lively parties. It was in the middle of summer, and all were there – the children from Hogwarts and Uncle Charlie, from Romania.

They had had dinner together, on two long tables, one for the adults and the other for the young ones. It had been a bustling affair. Chatter from all sides sprung up, and the passing of plates would have been disastrous had the family not been used to the whole affair.

Teddy and Victoire had played referee at the "youngster" table while Grandma Molly fussed over all the adults.

Afterward, there had been a wild game of Quidditch, as almost all of the family were above-excellent players. Lucy hadn't played but had sat contentedly on the sidelines with her grandparents.

Lucy smiled as she twiddled with the stiff pieces of paper, ribbons, and colored tissue paper spread over her lap and on the doorstep. Her family truly was a rambunctious bunch, but she loved them all the same.

No, not really. Lucy pursed her lips as she curled a pink ribbon with her finger. Not all of her family were loud and rowdy. There was one single exception – herself.

"What 'cha got there, Luce?"

Lucy jumped, her materials falling off her and onto the soft grass of the Burrow's backyard, as a friendly voice popped out from behind her.

She whirled around. "James!"

James Sirius Potter was her cousin – the son of her father's only sister, as she would say to anyone who bothered to ask.

He was also her exact opposite. While Lucy was quiet, James was loud. While Lucy was introverted, James was extroverted. While Lucy was studious, James was talented.

And while James was popular, Lucy was forgettable.

"Oh, bother. Sorry, Lucy," James hopped down to the edge of the lawn, and picked up her things for her.

She took the possessions he handed her, never leaving her seat. "It's all right. Thank you, James."

"Sure," James said, shrugging as he spoke.

For a while, there was silence. The shadows they cast fell against the stone path between the backstep and the green grass. Lucy studied their forms as she pretended to arrange the papers in her hands. James's frame towered over her shadow as he stood against the closed kitchen door.

Her shadow looked small beside James's. Lucy was almost a year older than her cousin, and she was a year ahead of him at Hogwarts, as she was to be a fifth-year and he, a fourth, when they returned to school in September.

But James's effusive personality had always overshadowed her own, even from when they were children. Lucy had always been small and shy. James was not.

She smoothed a feather with her fingers. It swayed slightly in the night wind, its black and white colors barely visible in the moonlight. A faint glow from the kitchen window aided her view, as she straightened the feather to the best of her ability.

The kitchen door creaked as James took his weight off of it and moved forward to sit beside her. "Hey, isn't that one of Roxy's Indian feathers?" James asked.

For a moment, Lucy didn't answer. James's voice had seemed so _loud_ in the quiet backyard. James didn't seem to fit in the soft, starry scene, where bluebirds chirped in the trees above and the wind murmuring through the leaves.

But James was looking at her so she opened her mouth to reply. "Yes, it is. I got it from her after dinner." While waiting for dinner to begin, Dominique, James, Fred, and Roxanne had amused themselves by pretending to be Indians.

It was a game complete with battle cries and wild bonfire scenes, and it hadn't taken long for almost everyone to start joining in the fun.

Uncle George had provided fireworks for the bonfire, and Aunt Ginny, with Victoire's help, had spread make-up and facepaint all over the little Indians. Roxanne had gleefully volunteered to become the Indian princess, complete with huge feathery plumes and headdresses.

Lucy continued with a smile, "She wasn't too willing to give it up. Actually, I think Roxanne's fallen in love with the headdress you made."

James grinned. She knew he was proud of his creative genius. Something was wrong though as James's grin disappeared as quickly as it came. He went back to looking at treetops, his long legs stretched on the stone path.

Lucy pretended she didn't notice anything. She was good at that. She didn't know if she got it from her grandmother, from Uncle Harry, or even from her dad. She was sure she got it from someone though. In this big family, it was hard not to.

"So, James, what're you doing out here? Everyone's inside."

Lucy was honestly curious. It wasn't that she and James didn't like each other. The Weasleys were a closely knit family, after all, and everyone openly cared for each other. But she and James hadn't spent much time with each other growing up.

And it wasn't their fault either. Lucy was considered the youngest of the older kids while James and Fred led the younger ones. Lucy naturally spent more time with Louis, who was her age, or hung around Molly or Dominique while James threw his lot with Fred and Roxanne.

James gave her a disinterested shrug. "Oh, no reason." His back faced him, stiff and tense. For once, there was no casual smile on his face. "Besides, not _everyone_ is there. You're not."

Lucy opened her mouth to retort that that didn't matter because she was forgettable. James was not. But she bit back her reply in time. Arguing wasn't her style.

Silence spread between them again. Minutes passed by as Lucy worked at the materials in her lap again. James stretched out beside her, taking hold of a small flower that had fallen from one of the trees above.

Lucy glanced at him. Sounds from the living room could still be heard. She could hear Fred's voice storytelling, with Roxanne protesting every other line. James was usually right beside them.

She wondered if there had been a rift between him and Fred, before dismissing the thought. The boys had been getting along fine earlier, chatting animatedly at dinner. Besides, fights between the best friends, rare as they were, tended to be explosive. She certainly would have heard something.

A burst of wind blew past them, blowing leaves down at them. Lucy shivered. The weather was strangely cold for a summer night. Quietly, James took off his jacket and offered it wordlessly to her. She allowed him to drape it around her, smiling. The Weasley women had trained the masculine members of the family well, as the boys were gentlemen to all ladies.

Well, almost all ladies, she amended. James's pranks drove Aunt Ginny up the wall, and he teased Lily to no end, as he said teasing was an older brother's prerogative. (Teddy had easily agreed, before tackling James and tickling him to the ground.)

And there was Alice. James and Alice Longbottom bantered like there was no tomorrow. Alice, who was a year younger than James, was a little thing with a red halo like her maternal grandfather's. And she was as sweet as a lollipop to anyone who wasn't James.

Lucy took a ring-bound file from beside her. It was a heavy notebook, already filled with pages and little trinkets. Turning to the last page, she opened the rings to slip on a new sheet of paper.

"What is that, really?" James asked, looking at the binder curiously.

Lucy hesitated. She had hoped to keep the binder as her own little secret, and had been relying on James's preoccupation, hoping he wouldn't ask her what she was doing.

But James was still looking at her interestedly. She bit her lip. Well, James could keep a secret.

"It's a scrapbook," she explained, placing the binder between them. "I've been working on it since March of last year."

"But that's more than year already." James said, surprised. "What's it for?"

Lucy shrugged. "Nothing, really. Just for…memories, I guess."

She watched James study the cover. It had some sort of collage in front, beautiful pictures covering the firm cover. If there was anything Lucy prided herself in, it was her photographic work.

She thought her excellence in her chosen hobby had something to do with being quiet and sort of on the sidelines. It was easy to capture the essence of a scene if you were just creeping alongside the corners.

The cover had pictures of all the family members. There was not one picture of all of them together, but instead a glimpse and a snatch of each could be seen.

There was Lily's laughing face, as she curled up in Grandpa's lap. There were Albus and Rose, shoving each other and giggling. There was Uncle Bill, his scarred face gentle as he listens to Louis talk earnestly to him.

There was Aunt Hermione, sharing a plate of cookies with Aunt Ginny, and with Uncle Ron creeping up behind her and Uncle Harry, trying to hide his smile. There was Dominique, cooking with Aunt Fleur and Grandma.

And up in the left-hand corner was James. He was standing by a window in the Gryffindor common room with Alice Longbottom. He was speaking to her quietly but with a drive and passion uncommon to James. There was an intelligent look in his eyes as he watched Alice carefully, and she back at him.

Lucy saw James's eyes linger on his picture. "That was taken late last school year." She said carefully.

James continued looking at the picture. "I see." His voice was subdued.

Lucy searched his expression. "I'm sorry. Are you angry? That's why I didn't plan on showing anyone the scrapbook. Some of the photographs are very…personal."

She reached out to take down the picture. "I'll replace it with another one," she promised.

James's hand shot out. "No, Luce, it's all right, really," he said earnestly. "The pictures are really great. I just didn't realize what a good photographer you are."

Lucy blushed. "It's just a hobby," she said modestly, as she ran a hand over the scrapbook fondly.

James smiled at her, looking more James-like than he had the past half hour. "You really are great, Luce. The scrapbook's a really nifty idea. Why did you think of making it?"

He looked genuinely curious. Lucy thought awhile before she spoke.

"Well, I guess I like to remember things, the small things. The details, you know. So many people keep looking at the big picture and take photographs of the big things, like families posing together in a gathering or something, with so-and-so placed here and so-sand-so over there. It's not right, you know."

She picked up her camera, a gift from her father. "I like the small moments, the tiny things most people don't usually notice but always remember when they do. And since they don't pay attention, well, I guess I try to help them remember. By taking pictures, you know."

She looked up at James and smiled. "And it helps that I'm sort of small and forgettable, you know. People don't really notice when I take their pictures."

Lucy nearly winced. She didn't mean to say that she was forgettable. But James didn't seem to notice as he gave a little laugh in response.

"That was brilliant, Lucy. I really like the idea." James gave her a smile. "Do you think I could peek at what's inside?"

Normally, Lucy would blush and say no, sorry, or she couldn't possibly. Normally.

Lucy gave him the scrapbook.

James took it carefully, looking again at the cover, before turning to the first page. There's a picture of Hogwarts, at a time when winter was just leaving and spring arriving. Taped beside it is a pin and a lock of hair.

Lucy blushed again. The lock of hair had come from Owen Wood, a year-mate of hers and the son of Quidditch phenomenon Oliver Wood. She hoped James wouldn't ask any questions and breathed a sigh of relief when he turned the page.

James spoke up a few pages later. "Hey, isn't this Teddy's graduation?" Surprise was evident in his voice.

Teddy's graduation had been widely publicised by the media. Teddy was, after all, Harry Potter's godson, who lived with the family, and was the good-looking son of war heroes Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks.

Pictures of Teddy walking across the stage on his graduation had been plastered on the front pages of newspapers and magazines all over. There were also pictures of Harry and his immediate family with Teddy, pictures taken at the official photo shoot after the graduation, something that was done to appease the media.

But Lucy's photos were nothing like the ones from the newspapers. She had managed to capture the look on Uncle Harry's face just as Teddy received his diploma. There was a touching medley of vast pride, enormous love, and a great deal of affection written across Harry's expression.

The photo below that was also of Teddy's graduation. She had snapped a picture of Victoire lovingly wrapping her arm around Teddy after he had joined the family at the end of the ceremony. Teddy's and Victoire's gazes were locked onto each other, smiles spread wide on their faces.

But what made the picture more beautiful was the image of Harry and Ginny doing the same a few steps behind and to the left of the younger couple. Harry and Ginny had smiles that showed a lifetime's worth of shared experiences, but all the love in the world was in their smiles as well.

Beside her, James shook his head. "Teddy was always head over heels for Victoire," he said, as he turned a few pages forward.

They continue to laugh over the pictures and other things Lucy had hidden inside the binder. They told each other the stories behind Victoire's hair ribbon, an empty candy wrapper, a few notes and letters passed in class, and more. Lucy truly hadn't realized how much fun James really was.

The next picture he stopped at was of himself. The picture had been taken late in the evening at the Gryffindor common room. The room was filled with sleeping Weasleys and Potters, with no one else but themselves.

Everyone had opted to stay behind for the Christmas holidays as the adults were all going abroad. It was the first time for all of them to spend Christmas away from the Burrow, and Louis had proposed camping out in the common room that night.

The photograph showed James and Albus curled up on one of the magically expanded sofas in the room. Albus was snuggled in his older brother's arms, sleeping blissfully against his brother's shoulder. James had a protective expression on even as he slept, and one of his hands rested gently on the back of his little brother's neck.

Everyone was sleeping around them. Lucy had woken up in the middle of the night, and had spotted the brothers. She couldn't resist taking a picture of them for James so rarely expressed his love for his little brother.

She remembered that night clearly. Albus had been battling nightmares for quite some time already, so much so that the older cousins worriedly watched over him. But everyone had been surprised that when the sleeping arrangements were being made, James had offered to share a couch with Albus for the night.

No one had been more surprised than Albus himself. Lucy smiled as she remembered how Albus had treated the whole affair warily, as if he expected James to pull a prank any minute.

He had even been hesitant about going to bed, checking the couch carefully for any hidden pranks, until James had snapped at him impatiently, telling him not to be a git and get to sleep already, tugging his younger brother down onto the sofa as he did so.

Lucy looked at James's bemused face, laughing. "Sorry, but you and Al looked so adorable that I had to get a picture."

James looked torn for a second before joining her laugh. "You know, Lucy, you may hide it well, but you've sure got that evil Weasley side to you, too."

Lucy grinned as he shut the book. "No, I think it's just your bad influence, Jamie," she teased, eyes twinkling.

"See, there it is again!" James said, pretending to look offended. Lucy laughed as she took the offered scrapbook from him.

She looked at the clock and was surprised to find that more than two hours had passed since James had come outside. James followed her gaze.

"Huh, I guess we better go in now then." James gave her a mock-bow. "After you, milady."

"Thank you, kind sir," Lucy played along. They both laugh before entering the Burrow.

All the family was still in the living room. Uncle Charlie and Fred both looked up as she and James entered.

"Hey, where've you been? You missed my story about Hedwig the Hero," Fred exclaimed from his place before the younger kids, frowning at James. The others all looked at them.

"Lucky me," James said, rolling his eyes as he sat beside Fred. "Now, kids, it's time for a real story, about Errol the Great."

Lucy looked up at Uncle Harry, half-expecting a remark from him, as he had always told stories about Hedwig the Hero to rival Uncle Ron's tales about Errol the Great.

Instead, she saw him give James a knowing look, one that his son promptly ignored. She didn't think much about it though, as she slipped in behind Dominique to catch up on the latest Hogwarts gossip.

A couple hours later, after all the stories had been told, Lucy began to feel drowsy, yawning every so often. Lily and Hugo had fallen asleep on a few blankets on the floor, and Albus and Rose were well on their way to sleep, too.

Vaguely, she heard Aunt Ginny tell the others to "just leave the children here tonight." There was a final clinking of glasses, and just before she fell asleep, she felt a blanket being draped over her, and a kiss was pressed on her forehead just as she caught a whiff of her father's aftershave.

Then she knew no more.

…

It's dawn when she wakes up. She's the first of the cousins to wake, as was her custom. Dominique and Molly aren't far from her, and Louis is somewhere nearby, too. Lily and Hugo are hidden under a mountain of blankets, and Rose and Albus are curled up beside them. And beside Albus, with Fred on his other side, lay James.

She smiles as she sees James's hand flung over Albus's side. Maybe the picture from yesterday had actually made an impression on him.

The picture…the scrapbook! Lucy sits up. Where had she placed it last night? Shifting about in her cozy chair, she looks around again. She smiles when she sees the scrapbook on the table beside her, slightly hidden under two magazines.

Digging it out, she places it on her lap. Cracking it open, she looks at the pictures again, amiling over each one.

As she lifted the scrapbook , however, a piece of notepaper, folded in half, fell out of the pages.

Curious, she opened it up. The notepaper was good stationary, with interesting designs all over. The paper is neat and straight, and freshly folded.

In the middle of the paper was a note.

Dear Lucy,

I had a good time with you tonight. I know we don't really spend much time with each other, and so maybe I interrupted you last night. I'm sorry if I did, but I really hope you had fun, too.

You asked me why I was out there last night, but I didn't answer. Well, I was in a bit of a bad mood yesterday. I'm pretty sure it wasn't that obvious – I was just a little out of sorts, if you know what I mean.

Roxanne, Fred, and all the others were getting on my nerves a little, too, for no reason at all. And all the noise was kinda irritating (which is saying something, seeing as I usually _create_ the noise).

So yeah, no one really saw that I was a bit grouchy yesterday – except Dad, that is. He told me to relax and get away from the noise for a while. Apparently, that's what he did as a teenager. (I don't want to imagine a moody, teenage Dad. The thought's just scary. Merlin knows how Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione survived through that stage.)

So I saw you slip outside, and I decided to go on out, too. I'm not sure why I did that, really, since we both know that we don't really hang out as much as we do with the others. But I'm really glad I did.

You know, Lucy, to be honest, I got to wonder if you have this special kind of magic in you – the kind of magic that makes people happy. I'm not sure if anyone's told you this, but you're a really comforting person to be around.

You cheered me up from that bad mood so easily. I wish all redheads were like you, all sweet and I don't know, _joyful_, or something.

So thanks. Thanks very much for sharing your secrets with me for a little while. And thank you for teaching me that being loud and trying to be heard isn't all that's important.

Sometimes, being quiet and being _there_ is what's really needed.

I'll stop now before I go all mushy on you. If Fred finds this letter, well, let's just say I won't hear the end of it. But I know you can keep a secret.

Thanks again, cousin,

James Sirius Potter

P.S. You are definitely **NOT** forgettable.

P.P.S. Owen Wood's a lucky guy.

Lucy reads the note again, smiling so hard she thinks she has tears in her eyes. James really was sweet.

She doesn't put the note back in the scrapbook. Some things are just too precious for that.

She looks out at the first rays of the sun coming through the Burrow's windows. The light is bright but not quite as bright as other lights she knows.

Joy comes from the innermost places, from within oneself, from the quietest corners of one's soul.

Lucy's glad she's found her joy.


End file.
